Monster Party Side Stories
by James Firecat
Summary: Looks into key moments in the lives (or unlives) of our protagonsits.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Here is where I will be posting all the side stories that show off various aspects of the backstories of our protagonists, to start with a defining moment of the life of James "Firecat."

Monster Party Side Story: à mal rat, bon chat

Eleven year old James Patte came running when he heard the door to his home opening with his usual energy, not even the traditional gust of cold (at least as he thought of such things) Richemulotian winter deterred him.

What was unusual was who came through, it was not his mother or father, nor was it one of their neighbors, all of whose faces he was familiar with (granted James had never been the best at fixing face to name). Despite all of that, he had no trouble at all recognizing who had just entered his home...

There was nothing truly elaborate about the way she dressed, though her outfit seemed to be made of the finest material imaginable. The only concession to her wealth and power as other nations recognized such things was an emerald stone worn about her neck which wonderfully matched the color of her eyes.

James drank in the sight of this woman his jaw going slack as he realized that yes his eyes were not playing tricks on him, Jacqueline Renier, La Grande Dame herself was standing right in front of him.

He broke into the best bow he could, but his exuberance overwhelmed both his good sense and excellent sense of balance. Before he knew it, James had bowed so deeply that he fell face first to the floor.

The ruler of Richemulot laughed deeply but not cruelly at the youngster's misfortune.

"So this is the miniscule mouser I have traveled to see himself? It seems he has not grown into his paws quite yet." Jacqueline inquired raising an eyebrow slightly.

Martha and Charles Patte followed their liege into the home and shut the door behind them.

"Yes, do forgive my son his follies, we had expected a summons from one of your messengers much like you gave me when I first arrived. None of us, least of all James, considered the possibility that you would come to us in person instead!" Martha explained clearly feeling only slight less surprised than her son was.

Jacqueline placed a comforting hand on the copper haired woman's shoulder.

"Do not trouble yourself over much. It is important for me to remind myself that there is more to Richemulot than Pont-a-Museau every so often, and this matter gave me a perfect excuse for such a journey." She offered comfortingly.

As James scrambled awkwardly to his feet Charles and Martha set about gathering chairs around the most respectable table in the home, James' father holding one out for Jacqueline and gently scooting it in once she graced it with her presence.

James prepared to slink from the room before he brought any further shame upon himself, his parents, and his family in general as was certain to happen if he remained for long in Jacqueline's presence.

La Grande Dame was having none of it though.

"Why so hasty to depart my miniscule mouser? Did you not hear your mother say that you alone are the reason for my arrival?" She coaxed.

James hesitantly took a chair of his own at the opposite side of the table from Jacqueline slinking into his seat as if he might yet find a way to vanish completely if only he wanted it ferociously enough.

He could not bear to think that he had done something which would force Jacqueline Renier herself to come all the way out to the small village of Bon Crêpe!

"Now then, as I am sure you all I know, under my rule I have striven to give carte blanche to all the people of the mists who wish to emigrate to Richemulot. Let elves feel free to revel in our forests, dwarfs toil beneath our surface, halflings seek hidey holes within our cities, one and all are welcome. Are we so gauche to believe that one intelligent being is superior to another simply because of the shape of its ears, thickness of its beard or its statue? Please!

This ruling applies not just to traditional forms of demi-humanity but also, some of the more, exotic flavors. Which brings us to the subject of you, and your mother... werecats." She drew the word far longer than it needed to be and James felt a lump grow in his throat.

"An elf and a dwarf or halfling are easy enough to spot on sight. But lycanthropes are another matter entirely. Some might seek to hide their abilities or nature from those that surround them. You two wisely have not. After all, how can a ruler make just decisions if the truth his hidden from them?

My generosity is so great that it extends to you as well, however what you must understand my miniscule mouser is that if you repay my benevolence with treachery, you will reap the wrath of all of the entire Renier family and all of Richemulot." She announced most decisively.

"I wouldn't dream of it!" James pipped up, now struggling to sit up as straight as he could eager to earn Jacqueline's approval.

"Ahh the utter untempered certainties of youth, he reminds my own Jacques." She murmured her face softening for just a moment, before becoming stern if not certainly not hostile once again.

"Just as I expect the citizens of my realm of great material wealth to provide more in the way of taxes for good of the nation, I expect those with exception physical talents to contribute exceptionally to the good of Richemulot.

For a man of a strong back and sound tactical mind he will lead his fellow villagers in weapon drills, for one of mystical learning, they shall not simply pursue power for its own ends. Likewise, clerics and priests must be ready to heal the sick and not pester people overmuch lest they focus on the world to come to the exclusion of this one.

For your mother, I understand she has helped preserve much precious knowledge, and save the lives of many children by exterminating the rats that used to invest this village and its library in particular. In this way she has been the perfect example for all who might immigrant to Richemulot, she has worked tirelessly while not being so foolish as to think she could conceal her secrets from the Renier family.

In your case my miniscule mouser, do you know how you must repay Richemulot for kindness it has shown you?" She asked almost tenderly.

James had no idea what the answer was, but all the same he went so far as to actually stand on his seat to try and bring his eyes level with Jacqueline's.

"I don't know, but I'll do whatever I can! The folks of this village are so nice to us, they even cut a cat-flap in our door for me and mom to use!" He gushed.

Jacqueline chuckled once more, but as seemed her nature joy soon faded from her features.

"If you do not know your place, then as is my right I shall assign you one.

What I tell you now is for the ears of your three only, should I find that you have told a single soul, I will have you all banished, to Falkovnia." She decreed.

The weight of that threat (if Vlad Drakov saw fit to make slaves of elves what would do to werecats did not bear thinking upon) hung heavy upon the room and was able to still even James' frequently flapping lips.

"Darkness and evil breads in the sewers of Pont-a-Museau. Wererats cavort in numbers that might make one wonder if they don't outnumber the true humans. I would welcome even such creatures, but they flout my rule at every turn, spreading filth, disease, and death throughout the city.

I can not abide my subjects suffering under their pestilent paws any more than under the Hawk's talons. Yet, even my hands are all but hopelessly tied, for how can you fight a foe who has the numbers of an army yet can hide as swiftly as a thief?

The Renier family has so far been spared the personal ravages of the beasts, but I doubt it is pure luck which has protected us. Rather the wererats are cunning enough to know that should strike even one of my distant cousins... I would have no choice but to strike back, even if all of Pont-a-Museau must be put to the torch to drive them from their hidden strongholds.

Such a conflict would be disastrous for Richemulot's occupants both wererat and otherwise, for I am certain in our weakened state the foe to the north would swoop down upon us once again. So be it, family is sacrosanct, there is nothing, NOTHING more important in this world than protecting one's family." James found himself nodding along in silent agreement with Jacqueline's impassioned words.

Though the Patte family consisted of only himself and his parents while the Renier family tree was sprawled like the cities of Richemulot themselves, love for one's kin united peasant and noble alike.

"For the moment I have no choice but to bide my time, and await the day I fear will arrive all too soon when the wererats do not fear me any longer. If that day comes, I will expect you my miniscule mouser to be the first into the sewers of Pont-a-Museau." Jacqueline announced.

"Me?" James gasped feeling himself threatened to be crushed under the weight La Grande Dame was placing on his shoulders.

He took a deep breath, curled his right hand into a fist and then with his left threw up a salute not even Vlad Drakov could have found fault with.

"If you wish it, I would journey there and plunge into the darkness this very day!" He promised Jacqueline.

Once more James' sheer exuberance seemed to bring the ruler of Richemulot a little respite from the dreadfully serious matters they were discussing.

"Too bold by half and half again! No single cat, even a single werecat has a chance to purging those sewers. All the same, there will be times when we have a chance to strike back against the beasts.

Boldness it seems is not limited to lycanthropes of the feline persuasion. Every so often there are stories of solitary werecreatures stalking the streets of the capital. Those singular wererats, above ground, without support of a full warren of comrades, they must be instructed on how unwise it is to earn the ire of Jacqueline Renier!" She did not go so far as to bang her hands on the table as more theatrical ruler might have, she did not need to.

"Such matters are to be attended to later though, a proper ruler must think in terms of decades and generations not months and years. Today, all I require from you is quite simple, because of your near unique nature, an oath of loyalty to some minor official is not enough.

Just like your mother before you, my miniscule mouser, you must avow your loyalty to me in person." She informed him.

James' head swam, he sunk back into his seat for fear that he might tumble from it were he not careful. He was unsure what words she might want to hear from him, if the normal oath of loyalty alone would do or if she wanted something more personal. So he simply recalled his parents advice and when in doubt followed his heart.

"Let me journey to the other side of the Core or the islands beyond, let my shape be that of man or beast, my loyalty to you Jacqueline Renier shall not change. Let not rumor, secret, or scandal sway my soul. I shall hide no knowledge from you and offer you my utmost service for the glory of Richemulot!" James promised momentarily wondering how he had gotten through all that without half swallowing his tongue or blushing as red as his hair in the process.

"A queen could not have asked more from her most favored knight." Jacqueline responded graciously and then snapped her fingers.

A courtier, attendant, or some other brand of servant entered into the Patte household a large well crafted bowl covered by a piece of cloth in his hands.

"Let me show you that the Renier family does not take such a solemnly sworn oath lightly with an offering of my own. I am given to understand from my past conversations with Martha, werecreatures find these winter months harsher than any human, for they can not simply store up grain or cooked meat in preparation for them.

With that in mind, allow me to lighten this particular burden somewhat..." As Jacqueline spoke the servant pulled off the cloth with an impeccable flourish.

Not that its contents came as much of a surprise of course, if the sounds alone hadn't already given it away then the smell would have.

It was filled to the brim with hissing squabbling rats whose tails had one and all been tied together into a great twisted knot causing each one's efforts to escape to undo the work of his fellows.

"Meat that could not possibly be any fresher. Eat heartily my miniscule mouser, for it is my wish that with passage of time you shall become a truly resplendent ratter." La Grande Dame of Richemulot commanded.

James had no intention of disappointing her.

He reached into the bowl headless of the hissing snarling vermin, his left hand's fingernails transforming into sharp pointed claws with which to cut the tail from a rat's body allowing him to separate it from the others.

"Sic Semper Rattus!" He promised Jacqueline and then set about consuming the pest.

(Scene Break)

Jacqueline Renier closed the door to the Patte residence behind her, a look of immense satisfaction glinting in her eyes. Even if serendipity had started her down this path her brilliant planning had kept the course from wavering.

Martha Patte had wandered into her domain quite shortly after her grandfather's death (and her subsequent ascension to the head of the Renier family and rule of Richemulot) and originally Jacqueline had intended to invite her to Chateau Delanuit ostensibly for the reason of swearing fealty, then reveal herself as a wererat and rip Martha limb from limb with the aid of her family.

Once they'd been face to face however Jacqueline discovered that unlike the actual animals they changed into werehousecats did not seem to immediately realize that La Grande Dame was something to be feared and shied away from. If anything, her policy of carte blanche had left Martha feeling more indebted and loyal to her than most of Richemulot's fully human immigrants!

That, that had opened up some very interesting possibilities.

So rather than give the order to attack Jacqueline had done the opposite, making it it clear to all the wererats of Richemulot that the Patte woman and her family were going to be under her personal protection and not to be trifled with. She'd even gone so far as to insist that they leave this particular village alone, not that a small hamlet of only a hundred or was a promising hunting ground for wererats in the first place. The subsequent lack of rodent related activity had made the villagers feel indebted enough to Martha that they openly accepted her, just as their ruler had silently wanted them to.

Then, exactly as Jacqueline had hoped Martha had taken a virile enough local man for her mate and produced a kitten. Jacqueline would have preferred additional spares, but a girl couldn't quite have everything she wanted.

So now that young werecat was being raised with a head full of stories about the grandeur of Richemulot, the glory of the Renier family, and her own personal splendor in particular.

It was all leading up to the kitten's inevitable fate of providing Jacqueline with something every ruler regardless of gender desired, their own personal executioner.

Yes, Richemulot was a country run by wererats for wererats, and nothing (certainly not one foolish werecat) was going to change that. But, it was in the nature of wererats to be treacherous (she only needed to reflect upon how at first her family had been all smiles and congratulations when she'd disposed of her ill-tempered and ever disparaging grandfather Claude but then only too quickly they had begun trying to unseat her in turn) and if she wished to establish a true Renier dynasty with power passing from mother to son rather than just bouncing back and forth between whoever had just succeeded in the most recent round of backstabbery, steps would have to be taken.

Ironically while she ruled for her fellow wererats, the very humans whose children her kinfolk snatched from their cradles in the night offered her much more loyalty and respect than the rodent themed lycanthropes who her family had made Richemulot a paradise for. The wererats of Richemulot seemed (especially the other members of her own family) to give her her naught but grudging obedience and backbiting (or at least what they imagined to be backbiting, Jacqueline had more spies and counter spies employed in dealing with her own family than she had keeping an eye on Falkovnia).

Being Grand Dame of Richemulot meant Jacqueline faced a careful balancing act between keeping her wererat subjects fed, her human subjects happy, and everyone the right mix of too loyal or too frightened to think about planting a silver dagger in her back.

That was where the young James Patte came in, someone with physical prowess comparable to (perhaps even surpassing) a wererat, and yet gave her the same empty headed devotion as she got from most of her other human subjects. If she couldn't find a way to make that combination work in her favor then she didn't deserve to rule Richemulot!

Given a few more years he should make a splendid instrument for reminding the rest of the Renier clan of why she was top rat.

Yes, it wouldn't be enough for her just to kill the ones who angered her anymore, no they'd have to be made examples of, their death's excruciating in the extreme!

First she would see to it that they were cut off from their fellow wererats, or even any normal rats among whom they might try to hide camouflage themselves and escape. It would not need to be for long, only half an hour at most.

Yes, how sweet it would be to know that they would be given a taste of her truest terror, before any of them were allowed to perish they must know just how horrific a fate it was to be alone!

Then, then let the dreadful mewing of the werecat fill their ears, and their minds be gripped by the terrible knowledge that a hunter had come forth who could match them shape for shape. Let her vengeance come with jaws that bite and claws that catch!

Let the fool Drakov keep his bizarre fetish for pointy sticks, death by cat, now there was a form of execution that would make even her unruly relatives sit up and take notice!

Jacqueline began to ascend up the stairs that had already been laid out for her by another servant and entered into her private carriage.

The door was closed behind her, leaving her in necessary but hated solitude.

Much as it pained her, it simply wouldn't have done to brought any of her family with her on the trip. It would have tipped her hand, (though she suspected her twin Louise doubtlessly had already realized by now why Jacqueline cared so much about a single family of werecats, still it would not do to openly confirm such theories so blatantly) and neither could she sit up front with her human carriage driver. Le Grande Dame always had to maintain a certain air of majesty about herself after all, and her current driver while competent had done nothing so exemplary as to earn the honor of her company.

She had managed to make the entire journey here alone and yet not let it unnerve her to the point that it affected her performance before the Patte family, no she would just have to withstand the trip back as best she could.

At least she had the knowledge of her success to grant her some comfort.

"Sic Semper Fidus Rattus!" She declared proudly.

The statement brought her such wicked glee that for a little while she did not terribly mind the lack of company.

FN: So, let's talk about language. To start with the title of sub story is French (or at least my best approximation of French which will apply to just about everything I say about languages other than English in these notes) for "To an evil rat, a good cat." It's a play on a French phrase "à bon chat, bon rat" translating to "To a good cat, a good rat." that is usually used to describe a meeting of two equals (two very skilled duelists for example). Fittingly given the warping of the phrase in this side story, La Grande Dame, and her peasant servant are anything but equals.

It also neatly sums Jacqueline's plans for James in one sentence, an evil rat will have the service of a good cat.

The name of James' village is quite obviously French for "Good Crepe", a "joke" that probably only makes sense to me.

Thirdly, James' family name has nothing to do with cooking, it's actually French for "Paw". Also during James' oath of loyalty it is worth pointing out that "rumor" "secret" and "scandal" are the terms used in Richemulot for copper, silver, and gold pieces respectfully, so it's actually a bit of clever word play where he is saying that neither deformation of her character nor bribery will make him betray her.

If you don't get Jacqueline's linguistic jujitsu at the end there its pretty simple. James' traditional motto as we've seen in the past is "Sic Semper Rattus" or "Thus Always to Rats". When he says it, the "Thus" typically has an implicit meaning of "Death".

Jacqueline's version translates as "Thus Always Loyal to Rats." By inserting that one word she's turning it from a battle cry against rodents to a reflection of how James has pledged his devotion to the biggest most powerful (I'd say most evil but after reading Scholar of Decay Louise Renier seems to have her twin sister beat on that front or at is more conventionally cackling bitch sort of evil (granted since Jacqueline is in power right now she doesn't have to spend time figuring out evil schemes to seize what she has just how to keep it (on second thought near the end of the novel Louise reflects on how she once drowned a puppy as a young girl thereby giving her an unquestionable lead in the "who is more evil" race))) wererat in the entire domain, and he doesn't have a single clue.

I can't say with perfect certainty to how in character Jacqueline is being here but I think it's quite plausible. As mentioned previously, I've read Scholar of Decay which seems to be the biggest source of information in it much more sparse stuff in the box sets or even the Gazetteer on Richemulot (it's full of great stuff on Richemulot as a nation but unsurprisingly being written in universe goes more into Jacqueline's history than her psychology).

To touch on the stuff I was trying to reflect, despite her own chaotic nature, Jacqueline has a real love for control (early on in the book she chastises her son for giving into his inner rat and biting his tutor and talks about how he must not be like his father who lacked control) and if she wanted control of James, oh but does she have it.

She's willing to make reasonable trades (lets a scholar poke around in abandoned buildings in exchange for telling her what he finds, is willing to let said scholar rescue his brother from her cousins who were going to drown/eat him so long as he doesn't hurt them in the process) and bide her time.

It's pretty clear that given her monophobia (fear of being alone) she'd prefer to be a iron hand in a velvet glove style ruler (she'd rather be loved than feared, really really rather be loved), and it seems to be working for the most part.

I don't know if any other source portrays her as being audacious enough to admit to the wererat problem in Richemulot but in turn effectively suggest the Darklord of the domain is some evil head wererat down in the sewers, but given her force of personality, conniving mind, and popularity among the lower classes there's probably no reason that she couldn't pull it off to villagers who have only been to the capital once or twice in their lives.

In short, like many people of the "evil" alignment in D&D Jacqueline can be perfectly pleasant and charming company, so long as she is getting her way. Once she isn't... that's when she'll concoct elaborate revenge schemes that involve having you hunted through the city, mauled three quarters of the way to death and then eaten alive.

Also if setting up complicated plans to try and keep her son in power once she's dead (and thus won't personally benefit regardless of if he succeeds or not) seems overly maternal/selfless, just in keep in mind she's also doing it to spite Louise/all the other family members who figure her son Jacques won't last a week once his mother departs.

Anyway, to close this section on one last note about language, given that James' family name, and Jacqueline's plans to use him to dispose of wererats who earn her ire without him realizing the truth of the mater, I guess say makes him quite the Werecatspaw!

No need to bring out hooks and rotten produce ladies and gentlemen I'll see myself out.


	2. Chapter 2

FN: I'm proud to say this story was the first to make use of my new proof reader so hopefully it'll be even better quality than what came before!

Monster Party Side Story: My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing. You cut me open and I... keep bleeding, keep keep bleeding love!

Mirri rolled into the town in the late afternoon with two things on her mind, feeding, and chaos.

Like many other predators, dusk was her favorite time of day to hunt. In her case, it combined two attractive features, it was still too bright out for anyone to have the started worrying about vampires, but at the same time it was already just a little dark and only going to get darker, which meant if things went wrong time would be on her side.

All that meant that feeding should be easy once she had found a good target, and when and wherever she fed chaos would follow.

One of her favorite strategies was to take a quick little nibble on the neck of some unimportant homemaker while her husband was out working.

Sometimes the husband was so foolish he actually mistook fang marks for more conventional "love bites" and would storm out in a rage to accuse some longtime rival of doing the deed. Even if they did realize what they were looking for, they'd never accuse a beautiful woman who was content to walk around in the sunlight.

Who knows, if she stuck around long enough she could keep right on feeding from different women until they started burning some local recluse at the stake thinking he was the vampire! That was one of the main reasons she liked to feed on women more than men, because it inevitably lead to people looking for a male vampire. Humans were just so set in their ways; it was almost too easy sometime!

Speaking of too easy, as Mirri crossed into the town, her nostrils flared with sudden excitement. She'd only just set foot in the place and already she was picking up the scent of someone who was bleeding.

Either this was her lucky day or somehow some enterprising vampire hunter managed to get here before her and set up a trap. That should have been the next best thing to impossible though, how could they have predicted where she was going when a lot of the time she barely knew herself?

Best not to over think things, she just headed in the direction she smelled fresh blood from. All the while, she coordinated her two main hunting senses, scent to bring her closer to the target and hearing to make sure whatever her target wasn't surrounded by vampire hunters lying in wait.

Things kept going her way however, she could smell blood and only hear one heartbeat. Once she got close enough to get eyes on target, she began to lick her lips in anticipation. There was one guy all on his own who was sitting around in the shade of a tree with its back to a building playing a harmonica, who also had blood dripping from his neck.

Mirri couldn't help but blink a few times in surprise, unlife was never ever supposed to be this good to someone as bad as her. There was no way that she was just going to walk blindly right into this one.

She circled around, went up the side of a building, and swiftly turned into a bat. There were still no nearby human heartbeats except for that of this one lone bleeding man. She flapped down to the tree he was sitting under, returned to human shape, and then gazed down at him.

Now that she was looking him over carefully she saw that her target was not even really a man, not much more than a boy in truth. If this was some kind of trap then it would have to have been set up by someone with a serious hate for vampires to use someone so young as bait.

Maybe somehow she'd drawn the attention of the infamous Rudolph Von Richten himself? Well that was an honor she could do without, but best to get this little bizarre farce over with. She shifted her weight and dangled upside down from the tree branch like an actual bat.

"You know, that wound on your neck might get infected if you don't do something about it." Mirri pointed out.

The youth looked up at her and then suddenly shook her head.

"You've got the wrong hair color." He answered without a moment of hesitation.

"What?" Mirri spat back.

The only thing that she hated more than someone trying to kill her was someone not taking her seriously.

"What, you only like blonds?" She demanded in irritation.

"Redheads." The young man insisted, but then he patted a section of the dirt as if inviting her to take a seat.

"You may not know it yet, but this town is being plagued by a vampire that can walk around in the daylight. The only thing anyone knows about her for sure is that she has red hair." He explained.

Mirri sniffed in revulsion, it looked like she might have to give this place a pass when it came to sticking around for a couple of days. Two vampires that walked around the daylight was one too many especially two female vampires.

On the other fang, just because she'd probably be putting this place to her back soon didn't mean that she was going to turn down a free meal.

"So you decided that your plan for how to hunt this vampire down was to sit some place by yourself, after taking the time to open a wound in your own neck. Do you hunt werewolves by going swimming in spices, beating yourself about to the head to make sure you're nice and tender, and then hamstringing your legs for good measure?" She suggested wryly.

The bleeding youth proved immune to her sarcasm however.

"Hunger makes monsters of more men than malice." He spoke those pretty words with belief that was half endearing half disgusting.

"That doesn't mean there aren't ones driven by malice." Mirri dropped down and began to look deeply into his eyes.

Let's see how readily he was going to spout off empty platitudes after she'd finished giving him a nice hefty dose of her charm gaze...

Before she could really get started though he twisted his head to the side refusing to meet her eyes.

"Look if you want to feed, that's fine... but I want to talk okay, and my name is James." He introduced himself.

Mirri blinked several times, not really making heads or tails of this. She shrugged it off though, the world took all kinds, and she'd heard the sort of sounds some people made when she fed, maybe James had some sort of death wish (or undeath wish as the case may be), his heart was certainty beating fast enough to suggest that he was feeling quite turned on.

Wait... his heart...?

Mirri drew away from him for a moment, because he'd been the only one around and her own heart was still she'd assumed his heart was just beating a little bit faster than normal. Now that she actually bothered to focus her attention on it and start counting...

Kali's Kneecaps, his heart had to be going something like twice as fast as a normal person's! How could he be sitting here and smiling at her? With a heartbeat like that he should look like he was about to fall over dead!

She reached out a finger and pressed it against his neck. He didn't draw away from the coldness of her palm, and she confirmed by touch as well that his heart was beating at a greater speed than that of any other human she had ever heard before.

"Why is your heart going so fast...?" She demanded, unwilling to go anywhere near James' blood till she had some idea what was going on with his body.

She'd heard stories that nasty things happened to vampires who drank the blood of those who had consumed holy water recently. She had no idea how long "holy water" could remain truly "holy" within someone's body and at what point it turned into decidedly unhallowed u***.

Not only that, but she doubted holy water could make someone's heart beat the way James' did.

"Isn't it natural for a young man's heart to beat faster when he sees a pretty lady...?" James answered with a playful grin.

"Funny, like a house of mirrors." Mirri growled, he'd sounded genuine about the entire calling her 'pretty' thing but she hadn't died yesterday.

James removed his hat, and Mirri gazed in surprise as he revealed a pair of furry red feline ears hidden underneath it.

Well, this was a turn of events even she hadn't planned for. Ears like a cat were easy enough to hide, but heart, now that was a lot trickier, at least from a vampire like her.

"So why does a monster like you care if the people of this small town are being menaced by a vampire? You couldn't be trying to eliminate the competition; there isn't much overlap between our respective hunting grounds. We want blood, you want meat, or is it milk in your case?" Mirri teased.

James just shrugged.

"Nope, you got it right the first time. That said, I'm hunting down this red headed day walking vampire because it's the right thing to do." He declared proudly.

Mirri promptly threw her head back and laughed.

"The right thing? What sort of pathetic excuse for a werebeasty are you? Get in touch with your inner animal. Meow at the moon, let your fur grow out some, raise some havoc!" Mirri demanded, feeling genuinely affronted that James could be such a softy.

"I am in touch with my animal nature, thank you very much." James promised her, his voice suddenly growing much colder.

First the gaze thing and now this, he picked strange matters over which to stand up for himself...

"I'm a werehousecat, that means I hunt rats. All kinds of rats. This red haired vampire... she doesn't drink people's blood, she kills them." James snarled.

"If you think that I've never killed people before..." Mirri left the statement hanging, but James did not rise to it.

"If bare my neck to you, are you going to drink from anyone else in this village?" He asked his eyes almost seeming... sad.

That wasn't right. He should sound indignant and suspicious like he figured that Mirri would go back on her word the first chance she got. Instead, James sounded like he was genuinely expected Mirri to live up to it and would be disappointed if she didn't.

"Fine I promise..." Mirri muttered after a moment's hesitation.

It hardly mattered either way, if she felt like breaking her word she could always blame it on the red headed vampire that was already plaguing the town. Not only that, but Kali was after all a goddess of trickery, it wasn't like she would look down on Mirri for going against her word should the desire arise.  
>"There, I gave you my word like a good little girl. Now that we've handled all the appetizing little details of the matter, how about we move onto the main course?" She suggested.<p>

To his credit James didn't need to be told twice. He turned around and gave her a clear view of his neck which still had a small gash in it from which blood flowed.

Mirri leaned in and began to lap it up eagerly.

Then James began to laugh, no he began to out and out giggle.

There were sounds that Mirri was used to her prey making while she fed from them, m*** of suppressed passion now bubbling to the surface, screams of pain, animalistic grunts were all commonplace, but giggles were not on the list of acceptable utterances.

Angrily she pulled away, her features creased by a deep frown.

"Well, now you know why I prefer my prey to be hypnotized ahead of time. If you still insist on 'talking' I would appreciate you showing some restraint. Also, keep in mind I won't be doing any of it myself since my mother raised me not to speak with my mouth full, " Mirri demanded.

At least to his minimal credit James seemed somewhat abashed.

"Sorry, it's just that your tongue was cold... it tickled." He admitted.

Mirri sighed and decided that she'd forgo using her tongue for a while. Instead, she just leaned right in and got to work with her fangs in order to try and open the wound a bit more.

She started to feed, and to her surprise James' body began to writhe. He wasn't pulling away from her or trying to escape he was actually... pushing himself closer to her.

That was new, Mirri was used to feeding from victims who were either fast asleep or charmed by her gaze into a bovine passivity.

James was neither, in addition to the sweet taste of his blood, the werecat pressed his body tightly against her own, as if he was trying desperately to bring some warmth back to her corpse cold body. That was stupid, warm skin much like conscience and a heartbeat were things that Mirri had said goodbye to forever long ago.

James had to know that, and yet he was still trying, even Mirri couldn't help but find his pathetic devotion... adorable?

Was that why he had asked her not to charm him? Because he wanted to show her... what? That it didn't matter that she was drinking his blood; he was still trying to make it a more pleasurable experience for her...?

Mirri wrapped her arms around him and embraced him tightly as she continued to sup from his neck. When she finally concluded drinking as much blood as she could stand she pulled away from him slowly.

"By the way, my name is Mirri." She finally admitted, realizing only after the fact that she'd started drinking his blood before telling James what her name was.

That wasn't very... 'nice' of her. With those thoughts on her mind, she took a moment to lick a few final drops of the warm fluid from her lips.

"Thanks for letting me know, so do I taste good, Mirri?" James asked.

To Mirri's surprise while the feeding had put a certain flush back in her own cheeks, James wasn't showing the normal pallid skin she would have expected from one of her victims.

"You tasted fine I suppose..." Mirri answered, being purposely aloof in regards to how much she'd enjoyed drinking from him.

"So same time tomorrow?" James offered.

"What?" Mirri blinked a few times, unsure of what to make of his suggestion.

"If you plan to stay in town for a while... you should probably keep drinking from me rather than someone who isn't as hale and hearty as I am. If you want, you could feed from the front of my neck next time..." James suggested.

Mirri was so struck by the nature of his offer that it took her a few moments to realize all the implications of it.

"The front?" She repeated, wondering if he was simply trying to be helpful, or if he was fully aware of the implications of his words.

"I thought it might be less obvious to anyone looking at me that I'd been drained by a vampire recently without needing to wear really high collar shirts. Granted, if we're worried about the wounds showing I suppose you could just drink from my femoral artery..." He offered without a hint of shame.

"What cheek!" Mirri slapped James, but not hard (granted a 'hard' slap from Mirri had been known kill people), though he still wouldn't forget it any time soon.

"What kind of a lady do you think I am?" Mirri insisted, every inch the affronted noblewoman and he a gentleman caller as if the pair of them were aristocrats at some fancy ball instead of the monsters they truly were.

(Scene Break)

So Mirri decided to stick around town for a little while longer. After all, it wasn't like she'd ever gotten her meals quite this easy before, and in truth James did taste better than anyone else she could recall drinking from recently.

Being a lady of some breeding of course Mirri waited until their third meeting before he drank blood  
>from the front of his throat. Doing that from someone who was aware of it was a new and exciting experience, not that Mirri was willing to tell James of course.<p>

None the less she decided that it couldn't hurt to wait around in town. It was enough to drive Mirri up a wall and make her so confused that she was willing to remain in one stupid town for far longer than she ever expected, for far longer than she could recall staying in one place since she'd been alive.

She kept reasonably close tabs on James, because she could... even when she wasn't meeting with him to drink his blood. After all, it was not as if she had much else to do around town, no need to concoct elaborate schemes about how to get her daily blood supply.

She wasn't sure if he knew she was there or not, Mirri was quite adept at stalking prey after all, but they said werebeasts had keener senses than normal humans. He obviously would not be able to hear her heart beat the same way that she could fill his ears with the rapid "parum-pum-pum" of James Firecat's heart though.

So she waited and watched James as he got involved with a red haired woman.

Mirri was certain that this was the woman James thought was the vampire, even though he hadn't told her as such. James had been very careful to avoid talking about his "work" to her, possibly out of concern for the fact that she might tell the redheaded vampire what she knew out of some sort of professional curtsey.

He was worried over nothing of course, Mirri like most vampires, who saw humans as walking talking blood filled bottles, also tended to see her fellow vampires as walking talking corpses who were all determined to drink from HER blood bottles, and what gave them the right to do that?

As she watched (Mirri had decided to take on the form of a cloud of white mist, this late at night she'd be virtually invisible and the redhead wouldn't notice any "living' bodies hat lacked a heartbeat) she discovered that James' suspect had a heartbeat also.

Granted the confusion she felt over that was second to her general sense of indignation. Mirri was quite frankly a touch upset at the fact that James had decided to take this crimson haired strumpet back to what she rightly considered to be their (make that HER) special spot.

Okay, yes it was the perfect place for something to go down in the town with no one paying attention. James was doubtlessly trying to get a rise out of the female vampire, so Mirri would just have to float around waiting until things got resolved one way or another.

How were they going to get resolved though?

What if that redhead wanted the same sort of deal with James that Mirri already had? He somehow managed to get along just fine with her feeding from him, but would even his seemingly endless supply of energy be able to sustain two vampires? Mirri hopped that ruby haired harlot was much less reasonable about such matters than she was; it would serve her right after all!

What right did she have to get something as glorious as Mirri's sloppy seconds?

After managing to work herself up into a fine fury, Mirri finally returned her attention to the situation going on below her. The redheaded b*** was holding James in her arms now.

Well two of her arms... all of a sudden she was growing a lot more of them.

/Vampires... vampires don't do that..\ Mirri reflected, unable to come to any other conclusion as the redhead began to sprout six additional limbs.

They didn't look like arms, they didn't even look like legs either, instead they were huge chitinous appendages. Her entire body was crackling and transforming, as it began to practically explode outward.

She became a gigantic blood red spider with a black hourglass mark on its abdomen, sort of like a black widow in reverse. A black widow in reverse, except instead of being miniscule it was large enough to have been able to squish a man underneath one of its huge hairy legs.

"Spi... spi.. spi..." James fidgeted about trying in vain to break free from the creature's grip until it leaned forward and jabbed its fangs into his chest.

Mirri wasn't going to take any more of this s***! She reformed herself from being an inoffensive cloud of smoke into a very corporeal and very offended vampire. She dropped out of the sky, turning the momentum of the fall to her advantage as she slammed into the back of the bloated she spider.

"LET HIM GO!" She demanded before delivering a sledgehammer like punch into one of the monster's eight eyes.

The ocular organ practically exploded beneath her fists leaving it covered with all sorts of horrible stuff that would best go uncontemplated.

More important than the physical damage done was the spiritual, she could already feel the thing's life-force being leached out of its body and into her.

"That's why you have a heart beat... you're still alive! Well let's see if we can't fix that..." Mirri ruminated with a wicked smile.

The beast let loose with a growl and withdrew its legs from the vice like grip they had seized around James.

She then jerked her body back and forth and tossed Mirri off. The thing moved with shocking speed and before Mirri could recover from her tumble it jammed its pincers into her stomach.

A moment later Mirri sat up and grabbed hold of the fangs which had the audacity to pierce her skin.

"Here's the thing Charlotte, I'm sure you have some really nasty venom in these suckers, but I'm already dead. So since they aren't going to help you right now, mind if I borrow them?" As Mirri spoke she tightened her grip on the pincers, and proceeded to yank them right out of the creature's maw taking still more of its life-force with her.

She rolled away and the monster began to scream and beat its legs against the ground. All of a sudden from seemingly countless hidden tunnels beneath them, a veritable torrent of spiders started to crawl out of them, clearly intent on supporting their larger mistress.

"Oh no, spiders!" Mirri screeched in a faux girlish voice.

"Do you know what eats spiders you oversized fly chaser? Bats." Mirri snapped her fingers theatrically and sure enough in the time it took all of the spiders to emerge a colony of bats under Mirri's control arrived.

A number of normal sized spiders that had been heading for James' slack body suddenly found themselves getting snatched up by Mirri's mammalian backup. They were quickly starting to send the tiny arachnid army into a rout while Mirri rushed forward to attack the creature again.

She began to rub a bare hand on the underside of the monster's bloody jaw.

"Let me make this perfectly clear, HE, IS, MINE!" Then she drained the last of the beast's life-force right out of its skin.

It promptly collapsed under the weight of its own body.

"Any questions?" She addressed the arachnid's corpse.

Predictably her question was answered by naught but silence.

"Didn't think so." She then took the time to stomp the creature's eyes into bloody puddles, and its entire body into mush just to be on the safe side to make sure it didn't reanimate in a few days' time.

That task done she turned her attention back to James. He'd gotten bitten by the huge spider just like her, but he was probably suffering a hell of a lot more from its poison.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked as he laid on the ground his fingers twitching ominously.

"Spi... spi.. spi..." He repeated the same word over and over again. Were they even words, or was he just suffering some sort of spasm?

"Spider..." Finally he managed to force the full word out and Mirri nodded slowly.

"That's right it was a spider. I made it a very dead spider. Now, are, you, okay?" She demanded once again.

With almost insulting quickness James regained his feet and began to brush himself off.

"Aside from needing to patch some new holes in my outfit, I think I'm fine. But um, thanks for dealing with that thing. I mean, I could have maybe fought it off but..." He rambled.

Mirri looked him over, not sure if she should be glad that he was okay, or angry for making her worry about him. Hell, where did a walking blood bottle like him get off causing a vampire like her, any sort of emotion at all?

"Wait, you're okay? If you're okay what were you doing laying on your back the entire fight?" Mirri asked, quite vexed by this turn of events.

James shuddered slightly and looked down at his midsection and his wound. Sure enough, his werecreature bonafides were being confirmed by the speed with which his flesh was mending.

"Well umm you see Mirri... Ever since I was young, I've had had this thing and so... well... um... I'm really afraid of spiders. So when that thing turned itself into a huge spider... I sort of freaked out..." James admitted.

Mirri looked at him and just sort of stood there for a few moments.

"So it wasn't the terrible poison that was coursing through your veins paralyzing your body and bringing you to death's doorstep, it was just the fact that you couldn't handle the sight of such a big spider." She concluded..

"It also didn't help when it summoned up a whole bunch of little spiders for whatever that is worth." James clarified.

Mirri hung her head in irritation, unable to believe it.

"You're gonna have to be a lot more impressive when it comes to monster hunting if you ever expect me to drink from your femoral artery." Mirri informed him.

James batted his eye a couple of times at Mirri as if he was still half paralyzed with fear. "Are you serious?" James insisted.

"Like I said, what kind of vampire do you think I am?" Mirri insisted considerably upset with what he was insinuating.

"Well apparently you're the kind of vampire who wants to hang around with me even though that other 'vampire' is out of the picture now." James pointed out.

Mirri paused for a moment, as she finally realized the full weight of her own words.

She'd meant it mostly as a joke, but did she really plan on sticking around with this stupid furry purry werecat? She put a hand to her mouth, as she felt her fangs growing just a little bit longer as she contemplated the idea.

"Well, maybe for a little bit longer. Just till it gets boring." Mirri promised him, and promised herself.

That was all this was, a way to make her life a bit easier for a couple of months. That was a miniscule time frame for a human being let alone a vampire. What harm could there be in keeping this kitten around till she grew tired of him?

Author Commentary: For those who are interested the title of this sub story comes from the song "Bleeding Love" by Leona Lewis (you can hear it online as part of an amv here /watch?v=ViOaFFg9NuY) and it's just about the most perfect encapsulation of Mirri and James' relationship that I could possibly imagine. Give it a listen and see if you agree with me.

As for the monster that the two ends up fighting, it's a Red Widow. It's a monster that is unique to (or at least originates in) Ravenloft. It's basically a gigantic spider shapeshifter that seduces men, takes them someplace private, and then transforms into its true shape, that of a gigantic crimson arachnid. At that point since it was already holding its victims in its arms and now has a lot more (and a lot larger) arms to hold them steady a victim on his own unlikely to be able to get free so it will have no trouble biting them and injecting its poison.

Its bite alone is relatively harmless (d3 damage) but the poison is of the classic D&D save or screwed nature (save versus poison or your dead) obviously James did make that save though due in part to his arachnophobia he failed the horror check invoked by watching the Red Widow take its true form and went into mental shock (basically James' mind hit a Blue Screen of Death and needed some time to itself in order to restart properly).

If the victim is subdued then the Red Widow will either feast on their blood and body, or it will inject its young into the body at which point when they hatch they'll do a chest burster from aliens though at least the victim is "lucky" enough to already be dead by that point. All of this means that while the Red Widow is a horrifyingly (in several different senses of the word) successful ambush predator, it's also completely unsuited for the task of fighting undead.

It's base bite damage is not going to break through Mirri's damage reduction, and if it did it would immediately get healed by Mirri's fast healing, and to reiterate something you'll probably see a number of times in these author notes... undead are immune to all poisons and diseases that were not created with them expressly in mind.

The Red Widow has six hit dice, thus why Mirri was able to kill it with three physical attacks, even leaving aside the physical trauma of her blows, her energy drain on its own (two negative levels each round if she can land a blow) would slay the Red Widow.


End file.
